Friendly Foes
by Dizzydodo
Summary: "Happily Ever After" is relative, after all. Besides, old habits die hard and Altair still likes to have a little fun with his favorite prisoner.
1. Friendly Foes

Many thanks to my wonderful Beta, Juno57 for pointing out some rather crucial errors. :)

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Altair knew he was in trouble the moment Maria stepped through the door of his study; there was a dangerously graceful sway to her hips and he had seen friendlier looks on the faces of his most determined foes.

"Shall I tell you a story, Altair?"

Altair looked from the scroll in front of him and back to Maria. _Best to agree with an adversary while thou art in the way with him and all. _

"A story? Unfortunately we are not children. I'm very busy. Perhaps tonight." He offered his most winning smile, the one which emphasized that scar at the corner of his lip Maria found so very fascinating.

"Then call it a parable, something very educational. A small bit of wisdom that even the Master has not yet made note of."

That tone was sending shivers down his spine to pool in his gut; likely not the reaction she was expecting, but he could appreciate her dangerous moods, delighted in them truthfully.

Altair made a show of pushing aside his materials, cleaning the quill and corking the ink, shoving the papers aside to leave a clear space on the desk. Without so much as asking his leave, Maria perched there, bringing herself face to face with him.

"This morning a certain woman, who shall remain nameless, went down unto the gates of the keep where stood one novice Yusef."

"You have a very poetic turn of phrase, my love."

"I've hardly even begun. You should ask this novice about my turn of phrase-"

"I hope you weren't too rough on him?"

Maria's finger pressed against his lips softly, tracing the curve of his smirk, "You may speak when I am through. Until then, not another word. Where was I? Oh yes. Imagine this woman's surprise when this novice informed her that by order of his Master she was not permitted to leave Masyaf until such time as she had spoken to the Master himself. Only, the Master was at work and she was not to bother him."

"Sounds rather like an impasse."

Maria tugged at his bottom lip threateningly, leaning closer than was strictly necessary until Altair was tempted to lean just the slightest bit forward and catch those tempting lips with his own.

"It should have been. Fortunately this was a most resourceful woman; she trudged through the practice courts until she found another assassin, one Malik Al-Sayf. It turned out that Malik, too, had a bit of a problem with the Master. He was all too happy to assist this woman in getting out of the fortress so that she could attend to her duties, and when she returned-"

"You should not have left." Altair snapped, "I had good reason for my restriction."

"Irrational fear is not sufficient reason for any action, Altair."

"Irrational? Our enemies are not gone, Maria. They have only gone to ground. Our peace will be short-lived, and with you carrying our child-"

"I thought as much. You will trust me to protect myself and your companions, but not my own child? You are a fool, Altair. I will not stand for it."

Altair reached out to lay a calming hand on her just-showing belly; "I want you here, in the keep, where I can be nearby should anything… untoward occur."

Maria snorted, "I was your prisoner once. Never again." Her bright eyes clashed with his darkening ones. "If you attempt to restrict my movements, I will only find a way around them."

"I will have a word with Malik and-"

"And doubtless hear a lecture you righteously deserve, novice." She growled. "I took Malik as a courtesy to you; a concession to your concern, if you will. By all means, reprimand him, for all the good it will do you. I will still find ways around your autocratic dictates!"

She was furious, and he wasn't precisely in the most forgiving of moods either.  
Perhaps it would have been wiser to speak with her before issuing his command to the gate-keepers. Damn it, he was supposed to be in charge, but cursed if she didn't run the place with an iron fist.

It infuriated him that she had put herself and their child at risk; they had no way of knowing when or from where their enemies would strike and with her carrying their first child… couldn't she listen to him even once?

"You are being a tyrant." She murmured, a little more softly now. "Maybe I should have come back to discuss this with you before I slipped out– you know my temper– but you cannot issue these edicts without so much as informing me. We are partners."

Altair glared at her a moment longer; the obvious solution to the problem would be to distract her for now, he could see about arranging accompaniment later. "You're right." He leaned forward to press a kiss to her lips but Maria pulled away.

"I can see the thoughts behind your eyes. I shall not be made your prisoner, Altair. Not in my own home."

Altair smiled rakishly, hand shooting out to pull at the elbow that supported her weight, she fell forward into his arms and he held her steady for a moment, pressing his mouth to her ear.

"I don't remember ever officially deciding that you weren't my prisoner any longer."

"I think it was rather assumed when I attained rank and took to wearing an assassin's white; do you not agree?"

"I do not." Altair sighed in satisfaction as Maria pushed closer, her breasts brushing against his chest distractingly. She bit into the tender flesh where neck met shoulder, tongue sweeping over the abused flesh warningly.

"Then you mean to say I have been fraternizing with the enemy all this time?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That's a serious crime. I suppose I had better go." With a neat twist, she pulled from his arms and rolled nimbly off the desk to straighten her attire and turn from him.

"Where are you going?"

"I think I shall leave you here for a while, just to think on the consequences of that pronouncement." She threw a saucy grin over her shoulder, mood changing as swiftly as quicksilver.

He couldn't simply leave it at that, when she attempted to open the door he bounded up smoothly behind her, pushing it closed firmly.

"Would you not rather stay and negotiate the terms of your release?"

"There will be no 'negotiation'. I'm certain you will come to see things my way after a few hours of meditation… alone."

Altair leaned a little more heavily against the door, pinning her there between his weight and the solid plane of the wood before her. She sighed as she felt him pushing his face into her shortened hair, drawing a deep breath. His hands ran down her back soothingly, maddeningly. She jumped as his fingers found those ticklish spots just at the base of her ribs, pressing his thumbs there firmly and drawing aimless circles over the fabric.

"I didn't give you leave to go, prisoner."

"I don't recall asking your permission, Altair."

He spun her about roughly and she caught at his shoulders, nails digging into the concealed muscles there. Altair loomed over her threateningly, fingers ghosting up her ribcage to the ties of her shirt, fiddling with the closure purposefully.

He leaned down, teeth tracing a line along her collarbone, nipping gently at the pale flesh there. He sucked in a breath as Maria's hands traced up his abdomen, following the contours of the tautened muscles beneath his shirt, pulling insistently until at last she could slip a warm hand beneath to follow the path.

He brushed a calloused thumb over the seam of her lips, pulling gently until she opened to him at last; a gentle kiss. Altair was of no mind for sweetness now. He needed to feel her vibrancy, her reassuring strength.

He pulled back and slipped a thigh between her legs, shifting his hips so that she was pinned in place. Her eyes widened in pleased surprise, pink tongue darting out to wet her lips temptingly.

"Kiss me like you want to live-"

His words were lost when her hands shot out to twine in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him forcefully down to meet her lips. She licked teasingly along his lips until at last he opened to her, groaning as she caught his lower lip in her teeth to run them along the edge, bruising the skin there possessively. He leaned into the kiss desperately, tongue pushing into her mouth to duel with hers, but she would have none of it, sucking obscenely on the flesh until he drew back panting only to dip forward again, exploring his mouth at her leisure.

How did she do this? When had he lost control of this situation? He couldn't really find it in him to care, tilting his head back so that her questing mouth could find every delicate point along the line of his throat, teeth scraping and mouth sucking. He would wear her marks with pride tomorrow, he knew, but she wouldn't emerge unscathed either.

He tugged at the ties of her shirt until at last he felt them giving beneath the steady assault, chuckling at the way her breath stuttered and stopped at the feel of cool air against her flesh. He scowled when he couldn't push the shirt any further from her, hands growing a little rougher at the task.

"Altair, if you ruin this shirt I'll kill you."

"That would be black mutiny."

"If I'm your prisoner, then it's really nothing less than my duty."

"I'm beginning to reassess that claim."

He jumped when he felt Maria's teeth at the ties of his own shirt, tugging them loose determinedly until she could see his bare flesh. "I am glad to hear it."

Maria pushed him back until she could strip the shirt from his shoulders, uncaring of where it fell. He couldn't bring himself to care much either when her thumbs brushed over his nipples, tracing down the line of his chest to his stomach. He pushed her hands away, pinning them above her head with one hand as the other finally succeeded in freeing her from the confining shirt. If he weren't such a jealous man he would order her to wear much flimsier shirts. Knowing her, she would probably take to wearing chainmail to spite him if he tried.

Her head thudded roughly against the door as he licked a trail up the valley of her breasts, pausing to breath warm air over the sensitive skin, nipping at the curve of her breast teasingly. That bared throat was too much of a temptation to resist for long, he found the hollow there, sucking on the exposed skin until she was left panting, nails clawing at the line of his trousers, trying to find the release.

He shifted his thigh against her roughly and she rose on her toes to push herself against him, establishing a steady rocking motion without any further prompting. "So eager." He whispered against her flesh.

"Why are you still talking?" She hissed, scraping her nails over his hips as she pushed stubbornly at his trousers; this had the desired effect, he too was desperate to rid himself of the confining cloth to focus on conversation.

She growled softly as he pulled his thigh from her, robbing her of the steady friction.

Demanding wench, she knew what she wanted and he loved her for it.

She helped him to peel the material from his hips; he gasped in surprise as she took advantage of his momentary imbalance to reverse their positions, shoving him against the door roughly. Maris smiled up at him tauntingly, "Don't move."

He snarled at her in mock rage, but the effect was lessened somewhat by his buckling knees. Her weathered hands had caught his length, clasping him in her warmth as she swept from tip to base. That smirk on her face was going to get her in a lot of trouble one day, just as soon as he could think straight.

"Tables turn so easily, don't you agree?"

Yes, and she would do well to remember that.

She tightened her grip, slowing her motion until he rocked into her, stifling a sharp sigh. "Now, as I recall we were discussing my position as your partner; you said something about prisoners?" She hummed softly, "I would prefer to have your permission to leave the fortress. It won't reflect well on you if you can't even keep an eye on your wife–hellion though she may be."

He mustered the words to respond with difficulty, "At least take someone with you. You shouldn't be going out alone."

"Only the novices are restricted in that manner. Either permit me my freedom or impose the rule on everyone. I don't think your peers will respond too well though. Stubborn as oxen, the lot of you." Her thumb brushed over his tip and Altair stiffened, biting into his lower lip desperately; she knew she was going to win, and thus was in no hurry to prove her point. She leaned toward him and Altair lost his breath at the first touch of her lips, teasing and promising but maddeningly gone again.

"Your decision?"

"Damn you." Altair snapped, reaching out to catch her short hair with his fingertips, pulling her toward him once more, "I wish you would be careful."

"I shall; my word on it." She hummed contentedly at Altair's sharp cry when she drew him between her lips once more, tongue carefully tracing his length, taking her cues from the pressure of his fingers in her hair.

It was too much; he fought to keep his feet, knees bracing him back against the door as her hands joined in her work, circling his base to massage gently, cheeks hollowing in a way that made him writhe. If she kept this up, he wouldn't last. Turnabout was fair play indeed.

With a colossal effort of will, he finally managed to push her back, thumb brushing over her chin as he clamped his fingers there to pull her away. Maria's chuckle sent another tide of feeling through him that he resolutely ignored, falling to his knees before her, hands pushing her back before descending to work at the ties of her trousers.

"I'm considering a new rule. Everyone wears their robes, all the time."

"Seconded." Maria arched off the ground, helping him to kick the fabric away; she reached out her arms but he ignored her, hands gliding over her growing stomach reverently.

"I'm getting fat." There was an edge in that tone a wise man would do well to heed. He leaned down to press a kiss to her flesh, tongue dipping into her navel, swirling until he heard her gasp.

"You're not going soft, you are still a worthy opponent."

"Hm. You would do well to remember that." Her fingers twined with his, both of them simply luxuriating in the feeling of touch for a moment.

Altair rested his forehead against her, "How could I forget? You never cease to remind me."

"Are you-" She cut off as Altair dipped suddenly, tongue swiping over her center, pressing between her lips to tease the nub concealed there.

"Cheat."

"Everything is permitted."

"I'm not sure your creed applies." She gasped as he drew her ** between his lips, pulling gently at it, one thumb pulling back the protective hood.

"Our creed."

"Our creed." She corrected, arching into his touch.

He pressed his tongue into her, one finger slipping in to hook into her, causing her hips to arch almost against her will.

Her hands found his head, fingers twining desperately in his hair to hold him to her as he continued his skilled assault. She tugged insistently and he slowly crawled up her body, tangling his tongue with hers until they could each taste the other on their lips.

"Enough play." Maria rocked against him, hands descending to catch his hips and guide him into her. He was half-tempted to resist, draw out their play a little longer and evidently the thought showed.

"It's a dangerous thing, denying a woman what she wants; you can never be quite sure how she might react." Her fingers dug almost painfully into his hips before releasing to stroke the soft skin there.

He locked eyes with her as he slid into her gently, determined to make it last. Maria would have none of it, she bucked and twisted to trap him beneath her, staring down into his eyes as she took him to the hilt.

He grabbed at her hips, feeling the shift of her muscles as she moved against him, "Are you going to hold me here?" Her voice was hoarse with effort and it took him a moment before he could muster the will to respond.

"No, you were right." Those words cost him a lot to say she knew; her rhythm grew faster, rougher.

"Remember that next time." She braced herself on her elbows as she lowered to kiss him; his mouth opened beneath hers, needing no further coaxing. He swallowed her gasp when he rocked sharply into her, hands pulling her against him insistently; she determinedly slowed their pace. Altair's smirk really should have been her first indication that he wouldn't permit that for long.

She stiffened and writhed when she felt his hands sliding down her torso to find the place the place where their bodies joined, gathering the wetness there to swirl it about her nub.

Maria cried out, rocking desperately into him as she found her release. Altair bit his lip until he tasted blood, unable to outlast her as she tightened about him. She collapsed against him, allowing him to support her weight, breasts pressed comfortably to his firm chest.

"Next time, I am going to take my time with you." Altair growled playfully.

"Not much of a threat." She chuckled softly, " Tell me what you said was more than just a product of the moment. You are going to rescind your silly orders and I am going to march past Yusef without challenge. Correct?"

"Correct." Inwardly he was smirking, nowhere had he promised that she wouldn't have a shadow. If he ordered Malik to take that duty then he might actually take full control of Masyaf for the hours they were gone.

His hands fell to her gently rounding stomach once more, brushing lovingly over her flesh. Of course, Malik might well tell her of his intentions regardless of any warnings he might give. He would face her true wrath then, a prospect that would make even the bravest of warriors a little weak in the knees.

It would be worth it. Anything to keep them safe.


	2. Cat and Canary

Maria tugged at her bonds once more, checking for any weaknesses that might have magically appeared since her last futile attempt at slipping the ropes; so far they were proving obstinate, just like her thick-headed captor.

She slanted a venomous glance at the assassin dozing in the corner. How dare he sleep when she was still awake and tussling with his handiwork? It was bad form, but thank heaven for his inattentiveness. She felt the ropes slip against her skin, loosening just the tiniest bit beneath her determined onslaught. She winced as her circulation was restored, causing painful prickles to run through her hands to the tips of her fingers.

"I thought we had agreed to a truce tonight?" Maria jumped at the unexpected voice, wincing as she identified its source. Damn.

"Obviously not, you left me tied."

"The last time I untied you, I woke up with a blade at my throat."

"I take it you don't enjoy having the tables turned against you?" Maria smirked, she had relished the opportunity to sneak up on her foe, but looking back now, that time might have been better spent making her escape.

"I've yet to meet anyone who does." He shrugged, and she couldn't help but watch the ripple of those powerful shoulders. A natural reaction, she assured herself.

"We could have our truce, and maybe get some decent sleep tonight, if you would untie me." Maria tried for a charming smile, but even she knew there were far too many teeth in the expression.

He smiled back, stretching the scar on his lip slightly; it was maddening, that scar. It made his every expression seem that much more dangerous, that much more tantalizing. Clearly it had been too long since she'd taken a tumble, so to speak.

"I can think of only one reason I might even _consider_ untying you-"

"Fuck you." Maria growled.

"Precisely." He moved so swiftly her eyes weren't able to track the movement, crossing the small space between them to pin her to the cold stone wall at her back. The leather straps on his arm dug into her flesh viciously as he pinned her throat with a forearm. He leaned forward, marginally increasing the pressure on her windpipe.

Maria glared defiantly at him, lips curling back in a mocking sneer; "Typical. The only way an assassin knows to make his point: force." Her voice sounded strangled yet steady in her own ears and she sent up another grateful prayer.

He pressed his mouth to her ear and Maria's breath stuttered to a halt, "I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of your situation. Allow me to enlighten you; you are a templar, a female who would likely be eviscerated by her own allies if that were to come to light. You are being held by an assassin who currently holds the power of life and death over you, and you have nowhere to run even assuming you can escape. I could give you over to my brethren to be interrogated and executed, I could deliver you up to your brothers-in-arms exposed as the fraud you are, I could kill you myself."

Maria squirmed, trying to put space between them, trying to lessen the pressure on her throat but he only pressed closer, "There's really only one thing to do, _Maria._ Kiss me like you want to live."

Maria's eyes opened impossibly wide, gaping in disbelief as he gradually pulled back and she was able to suck in her first unimpeded breath in too long. "What?"

"I thought I was very clear."

He was. That was just the trouble. This was forbidden; she was undoubtedly going to hell. Worse, if she didn't comply he could dispatch her there himself that much sooner. Worse yet, she found she rather wanted to.

Decided, she leaned forward, pressing into his weight; her bound hands clenched in the fabric of his clothing as she drew him nearer, swallowing at the feel of his warm breath on her lips. Maria banished her uncertainty, focusing on the task at hand with that admirable single-mindedness that had served her so well these past years. She pressed her warm lips to his, content simply to learn the texture of them; that small dip where his scar intersected the flesh, dry skin so warm and rough against her own.

His posture relaxed and she curled into his warmth, biting at his lower lip until at last his mouth opened beneath the assault. She murmured softly when he made no move to assist her, tugging at his shirt demandingly. Still he was silent, allowing her questing tongue to explore him at will. She stifled a gasp when she just nicked her tongue on the edge of that sharp canine; he sucked gently, and Maria pulled away, glaring at him.

"Satisfied?"

"Not nearly."

She opened her mouth to retort but whatever invective she had planned to hurl at him was muffled by a plundering kiss; he swept into her mouth, taking without mercy, demanding she give him her all and permitting no quarter. She stiffened in fear as she heard the _shick_ of that hidden blade clearing its sheathe, and gasped in surprise as the ropes fell from her abused wrists. This would be her chance to run, if only that blade weren't positioned so carefully in the folds of her attire. If she so much as sneezed she was fairly certain that steel edge would slip into the space of her ribs, pushing through flesh and into her lung.

That made it all the more surprising for both of them when her hands rose to cup his face, moving up his jawline to his hair, holding him to her. Just this once, only for tonight. She was demented, he was sick and they would both burn for this, assuming assassins even credited the idea of hell. Better to give into temptation now for the shortest while than to burn, better this than to wonder every night hereafter what might have happened if she had acted on base instinct rather than greater wisdom.

That wicked blade slid up her center to the skin of her throat for a bare second before suddenly it was gone and she could breathe easier at last. She dared not move too quickly lest he attack; she could feel the restrained power in the way he held her, one arm sliding around her to draw her close as his free hand caught her jaw, gentling the kiss.

Altair drew back, pulling her with him, angling himself to lean against her wall and tugging her into his lap. This was her chance; she could slip her knee up the tiniest bit farther from where it rested between his legs and rob him of his breath long enough to make a creditable effort at escape. She wasn't interested in that possibility right now, what intrigued her more was the warm material beneath her fingertips and what it concealed from her exploration.

She snarled in frustration when Altair broke contact, lips skimming down her jaw to run down the line of her throat, scattering stinging bites her and there. Maria leaned forward, hands braced against the wall on either side of his head as she licked at the opening in his shirt, teeth scraping along the exposed skin. She nearly purred when she felt his sturdy hands seize her hips, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a kitten to position her legs on either side of his own, arching into her provocatively until she rocked against him in retaliation.

His laughter sounded vaguely hoarse and thrilled her to the marrow of her bones; it stilled as her calloused fingertips glided up to his throat, feeling the vibrations beneath them, the roughness of his skin. Maria pushed against him; breasts pressing temptingly into his firm chest. Those hands rose from her hips, slipping beneath the fabric of her maddening wool shirt to clamp about her rib-cage, riding up to clasp about her. She jerked in surprise as one of those work-toughened hands slid down her spine; she could feel the swordsman's callouses at the base of his thumb and forefinger as it abraded her tender flesh.

She hadn't suspected how very sensitive that could be, hadn't known that she would arch into him like a cat, gasping when she felt that other thumb pressing into her breast, circling her aureole tenderly. She rocked her hips a little more firmly against him, fingers plucking at the ties of his shirt desperately.

"No."

"No?" Maria didn't much care for that confused disappointment laced with need that underlay her tone.

"Too dangerous. Need to keep watch." Good to know he was only just hanging on to his articulative faculties. By the time she finished with him it would be a miracle if he could remember his own language.

Her nails dug into his sides through the thin cotton of his shirt, pulling herself nearer to him and using his body selfishly for her needs. She didn't hear him voicing any complaints, his muffled grunts and panting sighs in her ear only spurred her on to greater effort; she ground her hips against him, teeth locking in his shoulder until she heard his pained gasp. He would carry that mark for some time, and mad woman that she was, she found that thought pleased her.

His blunt nails raked down her middle, bruising in their intensity and Maria gritted her teeth all the harder. He was moving faster now, desperate, and heaven knew she couldn't last for long but she was determined to show him up in this way at least.

Altair seemed to sense this; before she could so much as voice a protest, that hand that had been content but a moment ago to play at her breast dipped into her trousers. He pulled savagely, loosening the ties by force so that he could search with those talented fingers until he found that hidden nub, pressing into it and swirling around it with the rough pad of this thumb. Her cry was muffled by the fabric clenched tightly in her mouth, but her hips lost their steady rhythm, jerking against him quickly in that final bid for release.

She thought she could hear a smirk in his own muffled cries as he thrust up once, twice, more, tense muscles loosening beneath her. He pulled her close once more, hand resting on her ass as he continued to rock her against him languidly.

"Satisfied?" She mocked.

"Entirely."

!

!

!

Maria jerked awake, fists clenching in the smooth sheets beneath her, kicking away the fabric that had twined about her ankles. Damn him and his sexy words, "Kiss me like you want to live," indeed. She was still panting softly, pleasant aftershocks running through her body that caused her to blush in shame. She turned over onto her back once more, forcing herself to draw her hectic breathing back under control.

If only it had happened that way. Sadly, she had been rather stubborn and they had wasted a lot of time. There was plenty of time now to make up for that oversight now though.

She glanced over to her side, only now noticing Altair's bright eyes regarding her questioningly.

"Nightmare?" He reached out to brush her face tenderly, smoothing the hair back from her face as he leaned in reassuringly.

"No. I am fine."

No. No she was not fine. Why should she have to suffer the ache of being unfulfilled when she had a perfectly willing and virile husband beside her?

"Are you sure?" His tone had taken on that low, husky tone that never failed to send a shiver up her spine.

"Actually, there is something you can help me with."

She didn't give him the time to respond, rolling over and pinning him to the bed, pressing her face alongside his as she whispered, "Kiss me like you want to live."

"I sense that I am never going to hear the end of that."

"Likely not. Are you whining?"

"Absolutely not."

Maria had to admit, he made a most convincing argument for his survival, even when he couldn't muster the breath to speak.


	3. Friends of a Feather

Maria braced for an argument when the gates came into view; Alrair had promised she would have no more trouble at the gate, but somehow he always found a way to justify his tyranny and this might be no different.

She approached warily, shoulders back and head high daring anyone at all to tell her she could not leave today. She would make them eat the dirt their boots tread upon if any of the novices so much as eyed her slantwise. It surprised her when she received not so much as a glance at all; the novices continued their work on the practice court under the watchful eye of the master and Yusuf looked pointedly over her head. Not a word was spoken as she stepped through the gate, not even so much as a greeting.

Maria glanced back over her shoulder once she reached the rocky path; she hated the feeling of being the only one left out of some grand secret. She shook off the uncomfortable thought and started on her way; she had this moment undisturbed, she would profit from it and count the cost later.

As it happened, the price of her freedom was not long in appearing; no sooner had she rounded the bend in the path than Malik fell into step beside her, scowling at their fellow pedestrians as though each one had done him a personal injury.

"Are you to be my nursemaid?"

Malik snorted, "I have done nothing so wicked as to deserve the punishment."

"That is not an answer."

"I am not your nursemaid, Maria Thorpe." The tone was sharp enough to warn her that he was of no mind to discuss why he would choose to walk with her now. That only meant she had to pry it from him.

"My companion, then. Why are you not with Altair? I assumed the two of you would be devoting yourselves to the study of that blasted apple."

"It is not natural, his obsession with it."

"It is not a natural thing he studies."

Malik dipped his head in acknowledgment, "I have not found a way to distract him from it for more than hours at a time. Always he thinks on it, and neglects all other duties in favor of it." His voice dropped confidentially, "I had thought perhaps this child…"

"Enough!" Maria barked, "The child has only become another thing for him to agonize over at the expense of all else."

"My sympathies."

Maria pulled a face, "Now that we have exchanged pleasantries, what is it I may do for you?"

"Sometimes I fear you are a _djinn_, reading the intentions of lesser mortals and keeping your own counsel."

"I rather like that thought, but if I were a _djinn_ I could enchant Altair into occasionally heeding my poor counsel."

"That is what I hoped you might do."

Maria raised a brow, tilting her head to catch Malik's eye; "Ensorcel him?"

"Draw him away from his studies for a time; remind him that there is a world outside his study. I have not seen him take an interest in the training of the novices this past season; they grow disheartened thinking he cannot be bothered with them. He will not listen to me, but you might persuade him."

Maria nodded slowly, "I cannot promise anything, you understand."

"It will be enough that you have tried."

They walked on in a companionable silence until they came to the outskirts of the village, each absorbed in their own pressing thoughts.

It was strange, Maria reflected, this spirit of camaraderie that had grown between she and Malik. When Altair had returned with her to Masyaf, he had been the most resistant to her presence; she recalled the early days when all of her actions were greeted with suspicion and for the life of her she could not coax a smile or decent word from him. Altair had assured her that was altogether normal and that he was simply a sharp man by nature.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she had won him over more with actions than words; curiously, taking Altair's part against him in their frequent arguments had only redeemed her in his eyes and she could honestly say that short of Altair, Malik had been the first to truly welcome her presence among the assassins.

It was their shared concern for Altair that had facilitated the bond she was sure; they did not always agree on what was best for him, but they both agreed they must try to do their best by him. If Malik thought that meant snapping at Altair now and again, and if Maria wasn't exactly gentle in her dealings either… well, she and Malik had much in common.

"Are you weary?"

Mother hens, both of them. She couldn't decide which was the worst offender; Altair with his high-handed declarations and insistence on lessening her duties so she might have time to rest, or Malik with his covert glances and constant need for an affirmation that she was well, and the baby was well, and all manner of things were going to be well so help them amen.

"I am not. My rest was undisturbed last night." Maria looked way lest her eyes betray her, that was not exactly true, but Malik did not need to know the nature of her dreams or her methods for dealing with them.

His gaze was sharp, but he allowed her assurance to pass without challenge; a wise man was Malik A-Sayf.

They wended through the crowd together, dodging an enterprising young pickpocket who received a gentle buffet from Maria for his impudence. The town square was alive with sound, merchants crying their wares and beggars calling for coin, women gossiping and children screeching with laughter. After so long in the fortress it was a balm to her ears; she watched a child taking water at the well wistfully, assuming she could spirit her own child out of Masyaf occasionally she would bring the child here and tell him tales of the spirits that dwelt in such places."

"We have lost our eager shadow."

Maria perked up, "He would not dare."

"There is very little he would not dare; he is not a man to leave matters to fate."

"I propose we return directly; I must speak with my husband."

"Would you not rather leave him to his studies for a time? It would do him well to know he cannot always be the master."

Maria nodded her agreement, gritting her teeth to hold back the imprecations that rose in her throat, "There is wisdom in that. I think you are right; he can wait."

Malik smirked knowingly and Maria smiled back.

Had Altair seen the look he might well have taken to the hills.

!

!

!

* * *

Altair was not one for needless panic; he prided himself on his ability to lay aside his fears in order to complete his tasks efficiently, but when the door to his study opened and someone other than Maria strode through he felt a bolt of mind-numbing fear shoot through him.

Outside, the little village was carousing and making merry to celebrate the final harvest of the year and both his most trusted adviser and his wife had disappeared into the thick of it. Anything could have happened.

"Report."

His voice was hoarse and far sharper than he had intended, the novice shrank slightly under his withering regard, but spoke quickly enough. "They lost me in the crowd. I suspect it was deliberate, when I could not find them again I came to deliver my report."

Altair gripped the edge of the desk, trying to hide the motion from curious eyes. His first impulse was to chastise the novice for his mistake nd send him scurrying to the practice yard to have some much-needed sense beaten into him.

That wasn't fair; he had sent a novice after a master- two masters, to be accurate. The fault lay entirely with him, or so he tried to convince himself.

"Go. You've done well. They will return in time."

Evidently he needed no further urging; the novice scurried from the room almost before Altair could blink.

He frowned, only now realizing that he didn't even know the boy's name. He glanced down at the notes on his desk and back to the door; that was a failing on his part, one he would have to rectify very soon.

For now he was too busy fretting over thoughts of what Maria and Malik might be discussing. He had the uncomfortable feeling it might well be him, and a wise man knew it was never a good thing to be the focus of a woman's angry thoughts. The years had made him wise indeed.

Maria would return soon, and he would pray she had not noticed the spy on her heels. Prayers were so often muttered in vain though; he thought it might be best to prepare for the worst.

!

!

!

When they returned from their outing, hot, dusty and thoroughly content, Maria made her way directly to Altair's study. At this hour of the day, as with most others, he was usually hard at work on something pertaining to the apple. She didn't know whether she was more relieved or disappointed to find his study empty.

Maria scanned the room perfunctorily, looking for anything unusual or out of place. Nothing. Not so much as a rumpled rug. It was infuriating how very orderly he could be. Never an ink splotch on the table or a stray bit of sand, papers stacked so neatly.

Their own chambers was in a constant state of happy chaos; as a child she had always been tidy, but somehow as time wore on it seemed less important. Altair however, was as fussy as always and usually cleaned up after her to preserve his own delicate sensibilities.

Maria smirked; he was not here after all, and this room was too pristine. Besides, Altair's vengeance would be sweet. With that thought in mind, Maria rifled through the papers, noting that each one was carefully labeled so that he would know exactly the order it should fall in. She shuffled them so that no two numbers would be consecutive. Paper was precious and it was not her nature to waste, but she couldn't resist leaving a note at the corner of a parchment for him to find later.

She wondered how long it would be before his sharp eyes detected it.

The rugs were next; she took a childish delight in rolling them up and propping them against the wall. They were heavy and cumbersome, a little dusty; it would be good to air them before he put them back down.

Disarranging Altair's books was out of the question, he was fanatical about keeping them just so; still, she couldn't resist leaving a few of his racier tomes out on the edge of the desk. What would Malik think when he stumbled across the erotic manuals she had goaded Altair into buying? Maria snickered softly, she would give her weight in gold to hear the conversation that came of it.

"Maria, what are you doing? When did you return?"

"Damnation! You are as quiet as a cat."

Altair's brows arched, "There is much to be learned from cats."

"I've always preferred dogs myself, far less sneaky and supercilious."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

Maria propped the books up in her hand, "Borrowing a few of your more interesting selections."

"And the rugs?" She could hear the edge in his voice. Vengeance indeed.

"They are dusty. It might be a good exercise for your novices, beating them."

Altair winced and Maria's half-smile faded to a concerned frown, "Are you well?"

"I will see to beating the rugs; though I do not know why _you_ would concern yourself with cleanliness."

"Ah. I take it you have reached our conclusion on your own." Maria's smile returned again, but Altair's scowl darkened.

"_Our_ conclusion? What conclusion is that?"

"Malik and I have agreed that you are woefully ignorant of the day-to-day affairs of the order. You've spent too much time locked in your tower, and I would guess from your demeanor you've only now realized you do not even know the names of the novices. This is progress, Altair. Perhaps now you will try living a little outside your study again?"

"Are you practicing to be a mother?"

Maria snapped her teeth warningly, "There are worse ways to spend my time, I suppose." She glared pointedly at the papers on his desk.

"Such as spending a festival day out in the town."

"I would count that a good use of time; not a moment was wasted. The evening festivities will begin soon, should you care to return. It has been too long since you have been outside of these walls."

Glancing down, Maria only then realized she was still holding the questionable manuscripts. She turned to put them down on his desk, but in the next moment Altair was behind her, arms wrapped firmly about her waist and mouth pressed to her ear.

"You distracted me. I forgot to ask, what do you want with these particular books?" Maria shivered at the low, suggestive register of his tone. He was trying to distract her, she knew. Today she was of a mind to allow it.

Balancing the books carefully in the crook of her arm, Maria opened the cover of the one on top, inspecting the frontispiece.

"Do you think it is possible to contort a body in that manner? I am not so certain."

Altair rested his chin on her shoulder, tilting his head slightly, "I am quite certain."

Maria felt an unexpected stab of jealousy, tried to hide it beneath an even, teasing tone. "You know so, do you?" That fell short, even to her ears.

Altair pressed a lingering kiss to the smooth skin behind her ear, "I thought we had agreed no past lovers would stand between us. It is only you and I here now."

"You brought it up."

"You asked a question and I answered; if you must know, I've never actually attempted it myself but when I was in Damascus there was a dancing-"

"Enough. I do not want to hear this story. All of the worst invariably begin with dancing girls and end with you sliced to ribbons."

"A dancing _boy_ I was going to say and he-"

"Altair."

When she spoke in that tone, he dared not challenge it. Not yet, anyway.

"Turn the page," He urged quietly.

She turned the page slowly, examining the text at the edge of the illustration, "This is more suitable, I think."

"Not half as challenging."

"Perhaps more rewarding."

"Would you care to try it?"

The words lay heavy in the air for a moment, Maria tilted her head thoughtfully. "I have had the most wonderful idea."

In his experience those were dangerous words. "What is that?"

"Shall we work our way through the book? Beginning here, of course." Maria gestured to the picture on the page, tracing her fingertips across the lines of the drawing.

"The first of us to give in would owe a debt to the other."

"A debt? There should be no debts between lovers."

"A boon then, if you prefer it." Maria closed the book firmly.

"As for today, should I win you must come with me back down to the village. They will be lighting a bonfire tonight, I understand there is going to be dancing."

Her voice was wistful and it took everything he had not to confess that he would gladly escort her down again regardless of some silly boon.

"I think in this instance the odds are slightly in my favor."

"I have always enjoyed a challenge; it is why I married you."

"Here I thought it was because you loved me."

"That is a challenge all its own, and a wonder anyone but your mother could do it." Altair nipped her neck sharply and Maria chuckled.

"Should I win, you must promise me that-"

"Do not attempt to restrict my freedoms again, Altair. That way lies peril." He didn't doubt it.

"You must promise me that you will honor our boon whenever I choose to call it and whatever it may be."

"You would have me enter an agreement without an understanding of the terms? That is dangerous."

"I thought you liked a challenge?"

"You are manipulating me. Very well. I am no coward; I accept."

Maria yelped in surprise when Altair pushed her knees from beneath her, allowing the books to fall to the floor while he caught her easily against him. She writhed and thrashed, eventually managing to turn herself in his arms until they stood face to face, "Fie! If those books are damaged-"

Altair cut her off with a lingering kiss she could not refuse. Her fingers twined in the fabric of his shirt, pulling at the ties there until she could finally feel his bare skin beneath her hands.

Damn and blast, why had she chosen to wear a dress today? It was no wonder he thought he had the advantage of her. His hands bunched in her skirts, pushing her back toward his desk slowly. The air was cool against her exposed legs as he pushed her onto the desk; skirts rucked up to her hips, baring her to his view. He pulled away, easily evading her reaching hands while he dropped to his knees, wasting no time in pulling her toward him.

Maria cried out in surprise, hands clenched on the edge of the desk when he ran that talented tongue along her slit, fingers playing over the delicate skin of her inner thighs, finding the pulse that beat there. His skin was rough from several days without the acquaintance of a razor. She would have to show him the use of one as soon as she was able.

Maria rocked against him frantically; she desperately tried to find a way to reverse their positions, but when she lifted her legs as though to twist away Altair pulled them over his shoulders and leaned into her, redoubling his sensuous attack.

She was going to leave nail-marks in the polished wood if he wasn't careful. Maria writhed and panted, not entirely sure she wanted to win this match; that mouth was good for more than talking and when he flicked his thumb against her hard nub it was nearly finished. Altair caught her flinch, feeling the spasms of her inner muscles around his questing tongue.

Gently he traced circles over her most intimate flesh, timing the suggestive thrust of his finger to his tongue. She could not hold out long, he knew.

Maria arched against him, fingers twining through his hair to force him away from her. He would have none of it, reaching up to capture her hands and hold them in place with one of his. Her wrists felt so very frail in his grip, he knew it was only an illusion, but it was discomfiting to think of his lady-wife as anything less than a warrior.

Altair's moment of distraction cost him dearly; Maria arched and twisted, using her momentum to force him backward until they tumbled to the floor.

"No."

Maria smirked down at him, "I don't think you are in any position to be saying 'no'."

Her nimble fingers were already fast at work on the ties of his robe, but Altair was not ready to surrender just yet. He bucked hard enough that Maria tumbled forward into his waiting arms, rolling her beneath him on the floor.

"You are cheating. I thought we were going by the book."

"Damn the book." Altair growled.

A knock at the door interrupted them. Altair froze, looking to the door in mute horror.

Wicked smile spreading across her face, Maria continued to arch and move against him. "I have changed my mind. I like this."

"Yes?" Altair snarled, glaring down at Maria threateningly. Their hands tangled while Altair tried desperately to stop her from unlacing him completely; unfortunately Maria was equally determined to see it through.

"I would speak with you, Altair."

"A moment, Malik. I am busy-" Altair sucked in a breath when one of those clever hands slipped down to grasp his length, gliding down smoothly.

"_You_ are busy? There are arrangements to be made, provisioning to be handled. The quartermaster claims we are in need of new weapons to fit to our swelling ranks-"

Altair scowled at Maria's suggestive smirk.

The door creaked as it slowly began to open, "Damn it, Malik. A moment, I said!"

"There will be a reckoning for this, precious harlot." Altair tried to pull away and this time Maria allowed it, grinning up at him while he tried desperately to straighten his attire. She had but to stand and smooth her skirts, tossing a coquettish look over her shoulder.

"I look forward to it." Maria leaned up to kiss him and Altair lost himself in the simple pleasure of her lips against his for the moment.

"Altair, it will soon be night and-"

Maria pulled away and opened the door, gliding past Malik as though the rosy glow on her cheeks did not give away their activities.

Malik turned to glare at Altair, "You have a room for this, Novice. And it is not the Master's study."

Malik craned to look past him, "Where have the rugs gone?"

"They need to be beaten."

His friend snorted derisively, "They are not the only things in need of a beating. Maria and I-"

Altair sighed impatiently; it would be a long day. And if he had his way, a longer night. There were a few more illustrations in that book he had thought to share with Maria; now would be as good a time as any, and this time he would ensure the little vixen could not cheat.


End file.
